The Re-Return of the Baby Gate

Our old baby gate broke a little over a week ago, and since that time I’ve lived in a bliss of an open stairway completely free of the threat of catching my ass on either side of that harsh, narrow metal gate. That paradise came to an end (no pun intended) today as the replacement gate arrived via Amazon’s speed shipping. This is the first and only time I could have waited a few more days for my order to arrive.

1“Daddy does the shopping and mommy does the installing,” Lynnette said as she worked on the new gate and limitation of my freedoms. She did it in one of her sarcastic tones of voice so I met her with equal sarcasm. “Wow, that sure is quite the inversion of traditional gender roles,” I said. I thought that was pretty good but it garnered no response, so since my wife (possessed of two degrees, I remind you) did not care for my eloquently stated observation, I went a little low brow. “Nice butt crack,” I said. I received this patented Lynnette Death Glareβ„’ in return. It was worth it and I wasn’t lying.

2In sharp contrast to my feelings on the baby gate, the twins behaved like they were welcoming home and old friend. They immediately ran up to the gate, shook it, bit it, and screamed. It should be mentioned that they don’t behave like this when I return home from a long, arduous day at work. That’s right. They love a cold, uncaring metal gate more than they love their father who just fed them two bowls of Jello. I would be upset if I thought they knew at all what they were doing.

They seem so big, but they’re still so young. Just today Avery fake cried while Cole legit cried. It was a kind of sarcastic, whiny cry – like when your friend roasts you and you have no other recourse but to say exactly what they said, but in a higher pitch. And then there’s Cole who paraded around the house naked moments before his bath time clutching onto the remains of his English muffin. Ah, parenthood.

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